I do not feel complete –
I am a half, a quarter, an eighth –
Divided and separated,
Not whole by any margin.
My heart is simultaneously full
And empty at the same time.
Conflicting emotions wash over me
And drag me down below.
I want to be at one,
Not cleaved by indecision.
I know what it is I want
But not how to start that journey.
My heart is drawn in one direction
While my brain pulls in the other,
Neither winning the battle
And the war hardly begun.
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